


Costume Drama

by Kitsfics



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accountants, Alternate Universe, Cosplay, Costume Kink, Costumes, F/M, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Strip Tease, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Yes I studied accounting, costume cosplay, making accountants sexy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsfics/pseuds/Kitsfics
Summary: “Do you-” Rey started, then hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. “Do you do this often?” she finished after a beat.“Invite women I’ve just met at historically-themed costume balls to my hotel room? No, not often.” Ben sipped his drink.She laughed and drank again. It was good top-shelf vodka, and she started to feel fuzzy, and deliciously relaxed. “Well I feel it’s going well,” she said, to have something to say. “We have a drink, you’ve established trust, I feel like I can say with mild certainty that you’re not an ax murderer…”“So, you’d say now would be a good opportunity to ask you something?”“Depends.” She let the word hang in the air a moment.“Depends on what?”She smiled to herself. She loved his voice, deep and velvety, saying all the right things.“Are you going to ask me what you were going to ask earlier?”“Yes.”“Ask away.”“Will you take off your clothes?”“I mean, yes, that did seem to be the idea of asking me up here, right?”“Will you let me watch?”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually a story I started with original characters. My own head cannon about the characters was that the first romantic interest looked like Adam Driver and the second looked like Oscar Isaac. I gave it up for like a year, and then I was like, oh wait, this would be a perfect AU!
> 
> Takes place in Boston in the mid 2010s, Rey is an accountant with a hobby for sewing historically accurate costumes and wearing them to balls, she meets Ben who has a bit of a fetish for watching her take off her sumptuous costumes. Then she meets Poe, who seems like the nice guy she's always wanted.

Rey threw her pencil across the desk in frustration. It was the third time the balance sheet wouldn’t balance. She looked down the list of accounts again: cash, accounts receivable, inventory. Something wasn’t adding up.

She removed her reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Whenever she got stressed, she always liked to visualize her authentic 1770s costume, in order from undergarments to outerwear. She spoke silently to herself: “shift, stockings, cap, stays, busk, pockets, under petticoat, shoes, kerchief, gown, quilted petticoat, cloak.” Just the recitation calmed her.

Putting her glasses back on, Rey glanced at the clock. 12:15. She would take lunch, she decided, and maybe the balance sheet would be more cooperative in an hour.

She locked her computer and her office door and walked down to reception, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She stopped at the front desk, and waited for the receptionist, Darcy, to set down the phone.

“Out for lunch?” Darcy asked, then, without waiting for an answer, “where are you going?” At the same time, Darcy turned to her right and retrieved a dozen or so envelopes from a cubbyhole, rubber-banded together. She removed the rubber-band and handed them to Rey.

“I think I’ll try that deli again. Do you want anything?”

“I’d love a tuna melt with extra pickles.” She fished a ten dollar bill out of her wallet.

Rey made a face as she was flipping through the letters.

“Was that a comment on my order?”

“Some bills I’m not looking forward to paying.”

“Aren’t those all the bills?” Darcy raised an arch eyebrow, and Rey laughed.

She stopped at another envelope. “It’s not all bad news. A letter from the IRS!”

Darcy smiled and shook her head. “You know, normal people don’t get excited about audit notices.”

“But that’s an accountant’s bread and butter! How do you think I pay those bills?”

Rey dropped the letters in her messenger bag and turned to go, then turned back.

“Walk or drive?” she inquired.

“Oh, it’s nice out. High of 77.” A beautiful September day.

“Walk it is. I’ll be back with your tuna melt.”

“Thank you, Rey!”

Rey always felt better outside, which is why she almost always walked to lunch, no matter the weather. Today was especially pleasant. The sky was partly cloudy, so it was only intermittently sunny. There was a cool breeze, but not too windy. Rey lifted her masses of dark wavy hair off of her neck and secured it up with a clip she fetched from her messenger bag.

There were a lot of feelings of inadequacy, growing up the child of Persian immigrants in the 80s and 90s. She hated the way she looked for the first 18 years of her life, although, she learned later this was not unusual for many young women, regardless of their ethnic or immigration status. Despite being born here, she identified as Persian for much of her life. Her parents were proud of where they came from, and never wanted her to forget her roots. But her mother also understood the painful awkwardness of being other, of being different, and tried her best to help her blend in. But she couldn’t turn the masses of black curls into straight silky blonde locks that braided as pretty as Rey’s schoolmates’, she couldn’t change her daughter’s skin from olive-toned to porcelain white, nor change her eyes from dark chocolate brown to blue.

The thought made Rey smile now. The idea that she ever wanted to look like the cookie-cutter picture of womanhood that magazines and television presented was ridiculous to her now. In college Rey had become good friends with another girl from high school, who told her one night that there had been a sizable population of blond, blue-eyed All-American girls who had envied Rey’s golden skin, liquid eyes, even her smattering of freckles across her nose, but mostly her hair, so different from their own. Rey had been floored. They were all taught to want what they didn’t have, to envy each other in a cycle of never-ending toxicity. That was the day Rey threw out her straightening iron.

She tried never again to wish she looked like the other girls, but instead tried to merely appreciate herself the way she had been born. Sometimes, especially in the summer, she wished she hadn’t been born with such thick hair, that felt sometimes like it was trying to strangle her, but the thoughts were fleeting. On the whole, she liked the way she looked, and knew that she really was quite beautiful, even if it wasn’t the same kind of beauty she’d dreamed about at 12.

Rey reached the deli, a small family-run store with two four-tops inside and one rusty table outside with a mismatched chair that Rey had never seen anybody use before. It wasn’t much to look at, but they made the best meatball grinder, and she liked the lady who ran it. Flora wasn’t at the counter that day, instead one of her two sons was working the register.

“Hello Rey. Usual today?” Tony asked, punching buttons for her sandwich and soda.

“Yes, and a tuna melt, too.”

“And how is Darcy? $18.50.”

Darcy and Rey sometimes took turns making the sandwich run. There was always discussion about what they should order, but they invariably always bought the same thing each time.

“She’s well. And your mother?”

“Not feeling well, today. I told her to stay home.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Just the sniffles. You know how bad summer colds can be.”

Rey made a sympathetic ‘yeck’ sound as she pocketed her change, then moved aside to wait for her sandwiches and let the next customer to the counter. They were busy that day. She pulled out a paperback and read until her order was ready. She peeked inside the bag, added plenty of napkins and mustard packets, and turned to leave.

As she turned, her eye caught a flash of red from the line of customers. She stopped a moment next to a woman wearing a red and gold tiered skirt, every other tier was embroidered with gold thread.

“My goodness, your skirt is gorgeous! Where did you get it?”

“Oh, thank you!” the woman smiled and looked down at her skirt as if seeing it for the first time, as women sometimes do when unexpectedly complimented. “My cousin made it for me for a birthday gift.”

“Is that gold hand-embroidered?”

“I don’t know.”

“Looks like it. That is beautiful. I’m gonna have to try my hand at that one.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll tell her I got compliments; she’ll be so pleased.”

Rey said goodbye and went back to work. As she balanced her accounts, having spotted a very simple adding mistake she was a little embarrassed she hadn’t noticed right away, visions of red and gold lace occupied her subconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

At five, Rey shut down her computer, locked her office door, and waved to Darcy as she left, who was on a last-minute call. To be honest, Rey wasn’t exactly sure what Darcy did, but she always seemed very busy. Rey supposed that, besides acting as general receptionist for the building of assorted professionals, she must also take work as a secretary as well. There was a lawyer, a few insurance salespeople, and a dermatologist, although medical professionals weren’t welcome, as a rule. Rey was the only woman who had an office in the building, and the only accountant.

She had decided to quit the corporate accounting life 5 years back and start her own CPA firm. Someday she hoped to have a partner, but for now it was just her and a few temps at tax time. She broke even for 2 years, turned a tidy profit for the last 3, and only this year had decided to move the business out of her office and spend a little money on advertising. She’d been pleased with the results so far. Someday she might have enough business to justify hiring some year-round part-time help.

Rey got into her eight-year old BMW (a graduation gift from her parents after getting her CPA), and drove the 20 minutes home. She had purchased the 1,200 square-foot fixer-upper with a trust fund down payment. She hoped to have it paid off in 10 years, with the double payments she had made when working for Liberty Mutual. Between the trust fund and her savings, she was pretty well-off compared to most her age.

Unlocking the door, Rey was immediately greeted by a raucous flurry of meows, surprisingly loud, considering Rey only had one cat. The 3-year-old black short-hair ran up and began looping around Rey’s legs in a maneuver that seemed more like a murder attempt than an expression of affection. With cats, sometimes the two are mixed.

“Hello Selena. Did you miss me?” Rey made a few cat-like noises, and Selena brayed back, clearly unamused. Rey set down her purse and kicked off her shoes. Coming home was the best part of her day.

The door opened onto a short entryway Rey had decorated with a sparse shoe rack and a few coat hooks. The door literally opened onto a dead-end wall only 4 feet ahead. The real estate agent had seemed chagrined about this feature, but Rey kind of liked it. It was like a speed bump, forcing her to take off the outside world (figuratively and literally) before making her way into the living spaces.

To the left was a little den, carpeted, with a small sofa, an easy chair, two dark wood bookcases, and the TV. To the right was a small dining room, seldom used. Now it served more as her study than anything. Through the dining room, turning towards the back of the house, you came to a breakfast nook where Rey took most of her meals. The table sat under a tall window with a view of two large maple trees in the back yard, seating provided by two benches built into the walls. Past the nook was the kitchen, the largest room on the first floor. Past the kitchen, you came back to the den.

Between the kitchen and the den was the staircase that led upstairs, which cut off the four areas of the first floor from one another. Her mother had branded this floor plan ridiculous, but Rey liked it. It was eccentric, unusual, some of Rey’s favorite words.

Upstairs, the master bedroom was straight ahead, the house’s single bathroom to the left, and two spare rooms to the right, a guest room and Rey’s sewing room. The second floor was hardwood, with a few rugs. It was cold in the wintertime, as the house’s furnace was no spring chicken. But Rey loved even this, and padded around for 5 months in thick woolen socks and handknit sweaters, a perennial mug of hot tea in one hand.

Rey made a cup of chai tea and fed the cat before turning to the mail. One letter had grabbed her attention: thick, creamy paper with calligraphy hand-written across its face. Rey slit open the envelope and removed a single card, an invitation to an 18th century-themed French ball, at the end of the month. Rey tittered in excited anticipation thinking of all the pieces she would need: chemise, petticoat, pockets, stays, stomacher, gown. Rey had worn similar costumes before, of course, and most could be reused. The petticoat and stomacher, despite sounding like underwear, were visible through the front of the gown, and as such would need to coordinate with it. Rey knew she had an emerald green stomacher and petticoat that she had worn with a deeper hunter green gown last Christmas. She could pair them with a scarlet gown, which would only take her a few weeks to sew. Red was one of Rey’s favorite colors to wear, and the embroidered tiered skirt from lunch brought the color to mind.

She would go shopping for the fabric on Saturday.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning of the ball, Rey woke up excited, like a kid on Christmas. She checked her phone and already had a text from her best friend Connie. “It’s Ball Day!!!”

Rey giggled. “Are you far?” she texted back. The day of a cos-story event, they had a ritual. Brunch and mimosas at a little café nearby, then they both went back to Rey’s to get ready. It didn’t really take them 6 hours to get ready (although sometimes it felt like it), but they also watched movies, had a light lunch, and had a few drinks before it was time to leave.

A light dinner was usually served at the ball, but they never could eat much due to their dresses and makeup. They always ended up drinking several glasses of champagne, which, combined with the lack of food, led to the tradition of taking an Uber to and from the event to avoid having to worry about driving after drinking.

Rey threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and walked outside. Connie was waiting, her tiny red Fiat parked behind Rey’s car. She had met Rey at a cos-story (costume history) event in college, and the two had been friends ever since. Connie was 3 or 4 inches shorter than Rey, a year younger, with shoulder length blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She had a curvy figure that looked its best in the stays and low-cut gowns of the French mid-18th century style that they were wearing tonight.

“It’s Ball Day!” Connie shouted.

“Not so loud, my neighbors already think I’m a weirdo!” Rey laughed. “You want to bring your stuff in now?”

“Nah, later. I’m hungry.”

The café was four blocks away. As they walked, Connie caught Rey up on the details of her vast and rapidly changing love life. Rey couldn’t believe it, how she managed to juggle so many dates, how every week she seemed to have a new man in her sights. Compared to Connie’s love life, Rey was the Sahara Desert.

Two mimosas each later, Connie and Rey returned to Rey’s home. Rey looked up at Selena sitting in the window and felt a sudden pang of loneliness. Someday it would be nice to have someone besides her cat waiting for her.

Connie unlocked her car, and Rey helped her carry in her gown, other clothing, and hair and makeup tools, all contained in one garment back, an overnight bag, and a makeup case.

“What are you going to do with your hair?” Rey asked as they set the things down inside, and Connie unzipped the garment bag to check on her gown.

“Ooo, lots of big curls, all piled up.” Updos were very much the fashion in France during this period.

“Big and ornate, or are you going to keep it simple?”

Connie guffawed. “Do I ever keep it simple?”

Rey laughed. “Well, we’d better get started then!”

Before they started working on their hair, they changed into the period-appropriate underclothes, a shift that fell to just below the knee. It would be too difficult to put on after they completed their elaborate hair styles.

Rey began with Connie’s hair. She plugged in a curling iron and started by pinning the blonde hair up into sections, then curling 1-inch sections at a time, topping off each curl with a generous plug of hairspray.

“How do you think French noblewomen ever survived without hairspray?” Connie mused while sipping on her third mimosa through a straw.

“It probably helped that they never washed their hair. After the first month, the grease works much the same as hairspray. And, you know, wig pieces.”

“Oh right. So glad we get to just wear the pretty clothes and leave the lice and Black Death in the past.”

“Cheers to that.”

After she was done curling, Rey pulled the top section of hair at the crown of Connie’s head into a high ponytail. She began using a small comb to create volume by pulling sections of hair up and dragging the comb downward from about 2 inches above the scalp down. It wasn’t particularly good for the hair, but that was the price of beauty. She kept spraying hairspray to the roots as she went.

After she was done ratting, she went back to the small ponytail, and began pinning the hair in loops. She pinned a small sponge right below the ponytail, which helped hold the pins in place, and also served as a landing pad, so Connie wouldn’t feel at the end of this that she had 20 pins sticking directly into her skull. After the sponge was secured, Rey continued looping and pinning the curls, covering up the sponge entirely, and making it look like she had 3 or 4 times the amount of hair she really had. The final effect was smooth and swept upward in the front, and the back looked like masses of curls.

Rey took two small pieces of hair on either side of Connie’s face that she had not yet pinned up, and curled them again, creating a cylinder curl that looked kind of like the powdered wigs of early presidents. These she pinned to the sides of her head, right behind the ear. It kind of made Connie look like a poodle, but it was more authentic than the prom-like hairstyle she had done with the rest of the hair. It wasn’t strictly necessary to be 100% authentic, although participants were encouraged to be as authentic as possible short of bathing once a month. Rey liked to combine elements of modern living with the historical. She always argued that you weren’t every really being authentic unless you made your own makeup, complete with mercury, and so if you weren’t going to commit whole hog, you might as well be comfortable while you were compromising.

A couple more cough-inducing clouds of hairspray latter, and Rey held up a mirror for Connie to inspect.

“Rey, you have really outdone yourself! This is amazing!”

“Well, I don’t know about that. Hairspray is amazing. I used almost a whole can. You should technically be able to remove all the pins without losing the shape at all.”

“Oh, you’re too modest! I’m so glad your hair is naturally curly, I could never do this.”

“Eh, I watch a lot of YouTube tutorials. But I’m glad you like it. It did come off well.”

At this point, it was almost 2 PM. They took a break to have another drink and nibble on a sandwich tray Connie had brought.

Next, Connie did Rey’s hair, but that took less than half the time of Connie’s. There was no need to rat or curl, and only minimal hairspray was used. It did take twice the number of pins and swear words, mostly on Connie’s part. Eventually, the hair was got up into a reasonable copy of Connie’s hair.

“I’m sorry yours doesn’t look as nice as mine. Curly hair is so hard to work with, and I’ve never been a very good hairstylist.”

“Hey, at least my hair doesn’t have a pound of hairspray in it. I don’t regret the work you’ll have washing that out tomorrow.”

Rey unfurled a smock and wrapped it around Connie’s neck, protecting her shift from the makeup she was about to apply. She started with primer, then applied a thick layer of foundation several shades lighter than Connie’s natural skin tone. Once that was applied, she put on another layer. Then white powder, a little eyeliner and mascara, pomade to darken the eyebrows. She applied cream blush in a circular shape, then a coral hue on the lips.

“Beauty mark?” Rey asked, holding up a mirror.

“Oh yes. Let’s see. Where should we put it?” She pulled the diagram towards her, showing a young woman’s face, with spots marked on her face: forehead, cheeks, lips, and chin, with phrases written in French describing the meaning of the placement.

“Silent, dignified, gallant?” Rey suggested, laughing.

“I’ll take my usual, flirty.”

“Left or right?”

“My left.”

Rey took a special stamp and dipped it into the same pomade she had used to darken Connie’s eyebrows. Gently, she applied the stamp to the curve of Connie’s cheek, just level with her nostrils, about an inch away. “How’s that?”

“Tres belle!”

Connie then took turns completing Rey’s makeup. Since Rey’s skin was darker than Connie’s, they used a darker shade of foundation that was still several shades lighter than her natural color. Two layers of foundation and a heavy layer of powder, then Connie applied eyeliner and mascara. Since Rey’s eyebrows were naturally dark, she didn’t darken them, nor did she apply a beauty mark, since Rey already had one at the corner of her lips. Rey’s lipstick was a darker red, almost a brick red.

By now it was nearly 3. They took a break for a while, made one last drink, switching to vodka tonics which they drank from plastic cups with fitted lids and straws. They took no chances of overturning a drink on their dresses. Even the drink choice was strategic; if there was a spill, the clear beverage would be much easier to clean than wine or a darker soft drink.

“Use the bathroom one last time,” Rey joked.

Then it was time to dress. First, Connie put on white stockings, thin socks that came up over the knee. Because there was no nylon used in these stockings, they had to be held up with garters, ribbon tied around the socks to keep them from falling down.

Next Rey helped Connie step into her petticoat of sea-green and tied the laces over her chemise. Next came the pockets, which tied over the petticoat. When Connie was fully dressed, she would be able to access her pockets through slits in her gown. Next, Rey laced up Connie’s stays, while Connie did her part of holding the stays in place. The precursor to the corset, stays were somewhat ungainly to put on, and did not readily hold their shape when unlaced. Corsets had whalebones that looked somewhat like ribs, running horizontally from back to front, giving the piece shape even standing apart. Stays, on the other hand, were mostly made of stiffened fabric, and emphasized a rigid vertical line. The goal of stays was not to confine the shape to a forced hourglass, but rather to create a conical silhouette and support the bust. Worn normally, they did not constrict breathing or movement, although they made bending at the waist difficult.

Once the stays were fastened, Rey fitted Connie with pannier. Normally, a much bigger, elaborate contraption would be used to give the illusion of having 4-foot-wide hips, but they were forgoing these and hoops to be able to walk through normal-sized doorways. The pannier Connie was wearing looked a bit like a padded doughnut. It fit around her waist and was tied with two strings. Since Connie already had good-sized hips, her pannier was smaller. Once the gown was added, the top of the skirt would bell out, creating the classic conical torso and wide-hipped silhouette of the 18th century.

After the pannier, the stomacher had to be pinned on. This was done with small straight pins, with the sharp point of the pin resting in the stays to avoid stabbing the wearer. Connie’s stomacher was black and sea green, with small seed pearls embroidered throughout. After this, the gown was put on. It was put on like a jacket, then pinned to the front of the stays much like the stomacher. Both stomacher and petticoats were visible through the front opening of the gown. Connie’s gown was sapphire blue, almost the same shade as her eyes.

Connie cooed when she saw her reflection in the full-length mirror. “Rey, it’s beautiful! I still can’t believe you made this.”

“Everything but the stomacher, the stays, and the pannier.” She walked around Connie making adjustments here and there until she was satisfied. Then they repeated the entire process for Rey, starting with the white stockings, the petticoat (emerald green this time), pockets, stays, pannier (fuller than Connie’s), stomacher (emerald green), then gown, bright scarlet with gold embroidery.

“That looks ridiculously good on you,” Connie commented. “I wish I could wear red the way you do.”

“I could make you a red dress that would look good on you, it’s all about the undertones. You just need a bluish red to match your cool skin tones.”

Connie shook her head. “It wouldn’t look as good as that. I’ll stick to my blues.”

Rey reflected that they really were opposites, at least in dress and appearance. Connie, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and cool skin tones, wore deep blue and bluish-green, and put on silver jewelry with blue gemstones. Rey, with hair so dark it was almost black, warm brown eyes, and warm skin tones, looked best in fiery reds and vibrant greens, and complemented her dress with gold jewelry. They would look quite a pair, arriving together, otherwise unescorted, to the ball. Whether they would come home unescorted was another matter.

“So, you going to ditch me tonight like you always do?” Rey asked Connie as she was trying to fit the back to the dangling earring.

Connie smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Who knows? I never intend to abandon you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, I was only teasing.”

In reality, Rey was jealous of Connie’s easy way with men. She could flirt and dance with ease, where Rey always felt stilted and vaguely uncomfortable. It wasn’t that she never saw any men she liked; there were more eligible bachelors at these events than one might think. She just seemed to be terrible at initiating encounters, and try as she might, she could never get a guy to initiate contact either. It was as if Connie hummed at a frequency that every man between the ages of 18 to 45 could hear, and maybe Rey’s signal was just a few Hertz too low to be heard. She didn’t resent her friend’s successes, far from it, but she did wish she would meet someone. She was so lonely sometimes.

After the dressing, it was nearly 4:30. The Uber was scheduled to be there any minute. They quickly finished their drinks, slipped on their shoes (old-fashioned replicas made by a local cobbler), and loaded their pockets with their necessities: a fan, a handkerchief, calling cards (sort of like business cards, but with her phone number, Instagram handle, and email for prospective costume clients), cell phone, phone charger, a small wallet with ID and cash, house keys slipped into the wallet so they wouldn’t make noise, lipstick and compact, tampons, blotting sheets, and ibuprofen. The pockets were so deep, that even with all of this cargo, they were not even half-full, and it did not affect the clean line of the gowns at all.

The final thing to do was don their cloaks, black cloaks that matched every outfit. Slits in the side of the cloaks let them have freedom to move their arms without having to open the cloaks. The black cloaks also provided a very theatrical reveal once they arrived.

Rey’s phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. “Driver’s here.” They chugged down their drinks and made their way outside, Rey stopping to lock the door.

Connie was already chatting up the driver when Rey got in. A young man in his twenties, Rey could see him eyeing Connie’s ample décolletage via the rearview mirror as he backed out of the driveway. They told him where they were going dressed like 18-century court ladies. He didn’t even seem surprised that events like this were held.

“I just drove a bunch of people to the Furry Con out east. It’s hard to be shocked by anything after you’ve driven furries. One of them wouldn’t even talk to me. I still have no idea if that was even the right fare. Might have just been some rando who jumped in my car.” He shrugged.

They arrived at the venue 20 minutes later, and Connie tipped the driver as she got out.

“You ladies have a good night. Make sure to call it quits before they bring out the guillotines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since this was a fic i originally started with my own characters, I tweaked the Star Wars characters a little bit to match. I originally meant to make Rose the best friend, and Finn the guy whose name Rey couldn't remember. But then it didn't match the blond-haired blue-eyed description of the character, which would have meant re-writing a lot of the costume descriptions. So I went with Lt Connix (Connie). Rose will figure into the story sometime soon, I hope, if I can figure out a good place for her. I always thought she and Rey should be besties.
> 
> Also, call it quits before they bring out the guillotines is like a personal motto now. I want to cross-stitch it on a pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

The doors had only been open for twenty minutes, but there was already a steady stream of guests arriving. They all had to stop by the coat check first, which was causing a mild bottleneck effect.

“You want to go straight in instead? We can come back out once it gets less busy.” Rey suggested.

“Or maybe we can find some nice gentleman to come check our cloaks for us.” Connie winked.

“I’m sure you can!”

Sure enough, within 5 minutes of entering the ballroom, Connie had caught the eye of a man she had met at previous events. Rey recognized him but couldn’t remember if his name was Bo or Ro. He waved at Connie and made his way over. He kissed Connie on each cheek in the French style, shook hands with Rey (introduced by Connie as “and you remember Rey” although Rey was absolutely certain that he didn’t remember her.

“Did you just get here?” he asked, eyeing their cloaks.

“It was so crowded, we decided to come straight through.” Connie gave Bo or Ro a charming smile, full of dimples.

“Well, let me take your cloaks. I know a guy who works here, he’ll get me right in.”

Connie cooed her thanks, and Rey and Connie both untied their cloaks and revealed their gowns. Bo (Ro) was sufficiently impressed.

“You both look amazing. And kind of like you match, or compliment or something. Where’d you get your gowns?”

“Rey made them both.” Connie smiled at Rey, glad to share the limelight.

“You’re kidding. That’s so impressive. I can’t sew a button.”

He gathered the cloak and walked back toward the coat check. Rey evaluated his costume as he went. Powder blue breeches and jacket, white stockings and dove grey slightly high-heeled shoes, the white lacy bit at his throat, and an authentic-looking powdered wig. High degree of accuracy, but it was plain to Rey that it was commercially produced.

“He must be rich, look at those clothes! That must have cost him three or four hundred, easy.”

“That is not where his good attributes end.”

“So you did sleep with that guy before, right? What’s his name again?”

“Bo. And yes, I did. Although there wasn’t much sleeping.”

“Nice!”

Bo returned, offering to get them drinks. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of champagne, a whiskey sour, and a vodka tonic for Rey.

At exactly 5 PM a bell signaled that promenade would begin in 5 minutes. Rey finished her drink and touched up her lipstick, then Rey and Connie joined the other attendees in a ring around the ballroom. It was traditional (for the Boston Historical Costume Reenactment Society, not French 1850s aristocrats) to “take a turn about the room” before dinner was served. The idea was to give everyone an opportunity to see and be seen. For the first five minutes, ladies walked clockwise and men walked counterclockwise. Then a bell signaled the change to walk freely as one wished, still around the perimeter of the room.

Rey and Connie took places together, linking arms and pulling out their fans (Rey’s sea-green, and Connie’s fiery red) and fanned themselves gently as they walked. This was both coquettish affectation and practical necessity. All the warm bodies quickly raised the temperature of the room, and it was advisable to try to stay cool to avoid runny makeup.

At the second bell, Connie and Rey separated, as did many of the pairs of ladies. They curtseyed to one another sweetly, and Bo appeared at her side in a moment, as though he had been stalking her like a hungry tomcat. Rey continued on her previous course, and Connie and Bo circled the other way.

It was not that she disliked being alone. She greatly enjoyed herself, looking at the sumptuous gowns and dapper wigs, the shapely calves clad in pure white stockings, here and there a bright flash of green or purple. Costumes were her consuming passion, the thing that occupied her thoughts 90% of the time. Walking the room at the 20th Annual Harvester’s Ball was like a football fan settling in on Sunday morning for a full day of their favorite match-ups. But the more she walked, the more she saw pairs forming. She shook her head. There was more to life than just coupling up. She wanted to enjoy herself, and she wouldn’t do that moping.

The bell rang one more time to signal the start of dinner. As the crowds moved towards the dining room, Rey lingered behind. She seemed to have gotten something stuck in her shoe. She moved to a chair by the emergency exit and slipped off her shoe. Having dislodged the pebble, she looked up through the last stragglers to leave the ballroom, and spotted a man entering the room from the foyer. Something about him arrested her gaze, and she stared at him without realizing it.

He was tall, six-foot four or five, perhaps. He had cool pale skin and dark, coal-black hair that he wore long about his face, falling to just past his chin, curling softly at the ends. He had a stern, solemn face, sharp eyes that from a distance also appeared to be brown. His nose was sharp, hawkish, and Rey thought that finally she had seen a nose that she had only heard described in books: aquiline. He looked like a very regal bird of prey, a raptor in human’s clothing.

Rey let her eyes wander down to his clothes and realized why he had caught her interest so quickly, even at this distance. He was wearing all black. Black clothes were not unheard of, but to wear all black was fairly unusual outside of mourning, in this period. She didn’t think she had ever seen someone wear all black to one of these events. Jacket, breeches, even black stockings.

She came to two unsettling realizations at the same time: the room was completely empty other than her and the stranger, and the stranger was now staring at her.

She flushed and thought bemusedly that she must look like the ideal 18th century beauty now: pale as a sheet, two hectic spots of color on her cheeks. She could actually feel the heat radiating from her face. She raised her fan and tried to cool her burning skin. She now had two options, pretend to be unduly fascinated by her shoe, or put her shoe back on and walk towards the dining room with what little dignity she had left.

“I’m a grown woman, why am I blushing like a teenager?” she muttered to herself.

She put her shoe back on and stood up, then realized that the man had left, gone into the dining room, she assumed. Rey felt her cheeks immediately cool. She checked her makeup in her compact and applied a little powder to her forehead and nose. Her blush had stayed firmly in two spots. For a split second she wondered if she had imagined it all.

She went into the dining room, and a server quickly helped her find her seat. It was easy since she was the one guest not seated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bo is Beaumont.


	5. Chapter 5

The appetizer had just been served. Sometimes they served period-appropriate food, but for parties as large as these, they usually stuck to more modern fare. They began with a light salad. Rey took a few bites and let the server remove her plate when it was time for the next course.

A soup followed the salad, creamy tomato bisque, followed by the entrée, grilled chicken, green beans, and a side of roast potatoes. Rey made light conversations with the others at her table, found out that it was the first time attending for the young woman on her left, and that a couple seated across from her had been attending every year for ten years.

After the entrée was removed, a light chocolate mousse was served, along with plates of fruit and cheese. Then the mousse was removed, although the fruit and cheese remained, and servers circled with brandy and cigars. Few took cigars, though, as you had to go out on the terrace to enjoy it, due to smoking regulations. A bell signaled fifteen minutes until the dancing began.

Connie appeared behind Rey. It was Rey’s signal to excuse herself to the restroom. Relieving oneself in a custom-made dress with stays and pannier was a two-person job.

“So, are you and Bo getting reacquainted?” Rey teased as she held Connie’s skirts.

Connie sighed. “Oh yes. I probably am going to abandon you tonight. He and I have the best sex after a ball.”

“You will take the gown off first, won’t you?”

“I can make no promises, Rey my love. I will try. Send me any dry-cleaning bills.”

“Give me Bo’s address, I’ll send him the bill myself.”

Rey almost told Connie about the man in black, but something stopped her. She sensed that Connie would not understand her preoccupation. She would laugh, and so would Rey. But an air of mystery would be gone, and Rey didn’t want to give that up yet.

After washing up and touching up their makeup, they returned to the ballroom, and Connie to the arms of her beau.

Callers began arranging four pairs of dancers into groups for the minuet. The invitation had contained a reminder to visit their website, which linked to a YouTube page that had demonstrations of all the dances they would perform tonight. Rey had watched them, brushed up on a few of the steps, but it was difficult for Rey to practice without a partner, and she never danced much at these events any way.

A figure appeared at her elbow, the man in black. He did not look at her but surveyed the dance floor instead. When he spoke, his voice was low and sonorous.

“Are you dancing?”

“No, I have not been asked.” That seemed awkward to her, like she was fishing to be asked. “And- I don’t know anyone,” she added, lamely.

He finally looked at her, looked down at her, rather. “Will you do me the honor?”

Rey willed her cheeks not to flush. “I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Is anyone a good dancer?”

He extended his hand. Even his gloves were black. Rey took his hand.

“I’m Rey.”

“Ben.”

He signaled to the nearest caller that they were available to dance, and they were placed with a married couple, and two younger pairs. Rey frantically reviewed the steps of the minuet in her head. 1, 2, 3, 4, Right foot, left foot point and curtsey, straighten. 5, 6, 7, 8, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. Turn, go to the back of the row. What then? She couldn’t remember.

Ben squeezed her hand reassuringly and gave her a crooked smile. They lined up with the ladies facing the gentlemen. The orchestra began playing, and the lines bowed and curtseyed towards each other. The lead couple, the married couple, led off by stepping towards each other, the first 3 steps of the dance, then turning towards the front of the ballroom, away from the other couples. The next five steps of the dance were the lead couple walking forward, and the second couple (Rey and Ben) performed the first 4 steps that the lead couple had just performed (2 steps towards one another, curtsey and turn. Then the third couple, and the fourth. Meanwhile, the first couple walked in time around to the back of the group, becoming the fourth couple as the second couple moved up to first, and so on down the line.

Ben had been somewhat untruthful. He was a good dancer or at least he did move with a strong, almost feline grace. He had a good sense of rhythm, never moved too early or too late. It didn’t exactly take a professional dancer to execute this dance, as it was a simplified version of the minuet. But Rey spotted many others stepping with the wrong foot or coming in too early. More than once, Ben guided her through a measure where she had been on the verge of making a mistake.

The callers announced last round. The first couple did not initiate another cycle but took their places and waited as the second through fourth couples took their places again, back where they started. The lines separated again, and the gentleman bowed to the ladies, and the ladies curtseyed to the men as the music ended. All the couples applauded the musicians, and the members of the string quartet stood and bowed. Then the callers advised everyone there would be a ten-minute break until the next dance.

Rey stood a moment, not knowing what to do. She had felt at her ease during the dance, but now her original shyness returned.

Ben turned toward her and broke the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. Vodka tonic. A double.”

The corner of his mouth turned up again in a sardonic mockery of a smile. “Where will you wait?”

She turned and spotted an empty table. “Right there.”

She checked her makeup, then surreptitiously checked her phone. 6:15. It felt like it had been hours since the dinner started. Ben returned with their drinks. Rey took a grateful sip, although she was well aware that this was her third drink in little over an hour, what with the first vodka tonic when they arrived, a glass of wine with dinner, and now this drink. Before that, there had been 2 vodka tonics at home, and before that 3 or 4 mimosas. She could normally hold her liquor pretty well, but she had better drink some water soon, or she would be in trouble.

Nevertheless, Rey swallowed half of her drink in a few seconds. She didn’t know what had come over her. She set down her drink and saw Ben studying her. His look made her stomach flop, although it could very well be the vodka.

“You’re staring,” she said, although she made a point to smile, so he wouldn't think she minded.

“I’m sorry. I want to ask you something.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

He considered for a moment, then said “Do you want to dance again?”

She fanned herself again. “That wasn’t what you were about to ask me.”

“You’re right” he said with a small shrug. “Well, do you?”

“What kind of dance is it?”

“The Allemande. It’s easy.”

She tried to remember her cramming session from the previous night. “The little 1-2-3 steps and the back bends?”

Ben laughed, a deep basso rumbling. “Yes, that’s the one.”

The callers began to call for dancers. In this dance, the couples did not interact with others; each couple was a self-contained dancing unit. As such, they were organized into lines, men on one side and women on the other.

The music began, and the ladies curtseyed while the men bowed. Rey looked up at Ben, and the color rose in her face again. She blamed the alcohol.

She was a half-beat late for the first steps. She caught up with the others, the line of ladies meeting the men in the middle, clasping hands, and raising their arms like they had all decided to play London Bridge Is Falling Down. Rey started to giggle at the thought of all these well-dressed gentlefolk getting caught between the arms as they fell and getting shook up with salt and pepper.

The pairs of dancers next turned to the left, so that for a moment they were clasping hands over their heads, but facing away from each other. Then Rey turned back toward Ben while he was still facing outward. Her arms crossed over each other, forming what was called a love knot. Then Ben turned toward her, undoing the knot. Ben saw that she was near to bursting into laughter.

“What’s funny? Not my dancing, I hope.”

“No, I was thinking of London Bridge.” He just shook his head, confused. “You know,” she elaborated, then began to sing-song “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…” She stopped when she realized other couples were beginning to stare at her. She subsided into giggles.

After one more love knot, the couples separated, then formed together again. This time, the men led the figure, the ones to form the love knot, and the women broke it. For a moment, Ben was behind her, she could feel him looming over her. The way his hands were crossed, left over right, still clasping her left hand in his right hand, her right in his left, she could see why it was called a love knot. Her arms were crossed over her head, creating a somewhat erotic pose. It was only for a moment. Next beat, Rey turned and broke the knot, and they were standing facing each other again, holding hands.

Rey could feel that her cheeks were still beet red.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s just warm in here.”

Once more, they turned together, her to her right, he to his left. He turned again, wrists crossing, and this time, Rey could have sworn she heard him smell her hair. Rey realized with a feeling that was half embarrassment, half amusement, that she was wet beneath her chemise. For the first time, it really occurred to her how little undergarments she was wearing.

They completed the love knot four more times, then the lines separated for the last time, the ladies curtseyed and the men bowed, and the music ended. The callers advised a ten-minute break.

Ben still watched Rey with mild concern. “Should we get some air?”

“Yes. And some water, please.”

There was a table of water bottles in the dining room. They grabbed two on the way to the patio. In the cool air, Rey could feel her color ebbing. She took a grateful swig from her water bottle, then followed it by a few more.

“Better?”

She nodded. “Maybe I should call a cab and go home.”

Ben’s lips twitched. It looked like he had been about the speak but thought better of it.

“What were you going to say? I feel like you’re always about to say something to me, but you never do.” Rey would have time to wonder at her brashness tomorrow. There was no denying they had some kind of chemistry. She would only travel halfway; he must meet her somewhere near the middle.

“I was going to say I have a room at the hotel. I would ask if you’d like to come up there.” He shrugged. “I’m not good at propositioning women I’ve just met. But I think you’re beautiful, and there’s something very charming about the way you keep blushing all the time. I don’t know, maybe you just have a nervous condition.” He shrugged. “Anyway, you asked. I hope you’re not going to slap me now.”

Rey chugged the rest of her water, throwing her head back and half-closing her eyes. She felt refreshed after the water, not quite so drunk but still blissfully swimmy and misty. “What’s your room number?”

“216.”

“Let me tell my friend that I’m leaving early. I’ll meet you there.”

Partly she wanted to find Connie, but partly she didn’t want to be spotted leaving with him. It was early enough that their departure might turn heads. And someone might see them head toward the hotel attached to the convention center.

Another reason for the slight delay was to have a moment to collect her thoughts, to make no rash decision.

Ben nodded, and left, lingering slightly like there was more he would have liked to say, then quickening his step, his hands deep in his pockets.

Rey breathed a sigh, turned towards the stone ledge that bordered the outdoor patio, beyond which stood lush gardens, just now beginning to descend into autumnal slumber. She took a deep breath of the fresh and lightly fragrant air, a happy change from the stilted air of the ballroom, spiked with the clashing odors of too many perfumed bodies.

She had agreed to something she had not done since college, a tryst with a man she had never met before that night. Did she still want to? How would she feel tomorrow?

Rey thought back to the last time she had been with a man, almost a year ago. She had been in a committed relationship for two years before they decided to end it. It had been mutual, and they parted well. She didn’t see him often, but when she did they said hello and chatted for a few minutes, caught up, then parted again. They never made a pretense of “we should get coffee sometime” and Rey liked that. It had been so easy to let go of one another, partly because they had already let go long before they said it aloud.

Rey knew now, although she hadn’t realized it back then, that a lack of sexual chemistry had a lot to do with the distance that had crept in between them. They had sex, and there was nothing altogether wrong with it, but it had become routine. Even in the first days of their romance, she couldn’t remember much raw passion. She didn’t remember feeling the way she had when Ben loomed over her, held her hands up above her head, and sniffed her hair.

She giggled to herself. Sniffing her hair. It was like something from 2nd grade. Juvenile, maybe. But Rey had to admit, she was dying to see what came next.

She had decided. She would go.


	6. Chapter 6

She went back inside. Another dance had just ended. Rey looked for Connie, then started looking for Bo instead, as he would be far easier to spot towering above the rest of the crowd. She couldn’t see either.

She reached in her pocket for her cell phone. She had a message from Connie. “I’m bailing early. Text me when you get home.” And a kissy face emoji.

Rey texted back. “So, I’m going to do something partly questionable. Text me tomorrow morning. If you don’t hear back from me, I’m in room 216 at the Hilton at the convention center.” Winking emoji. Send.

She fished in her pocket for the coat check token, went and retrieved her cloak, and left the foyer of the ballroom, walking away from the front entrance, down a corridor to the hotel, through the lobby, to the main elevators. She got a few strange looks as she went, but she tried to act like she was always dressed up as a French courtier from the 1750s, and soon the elevator doors were closed and she was alone, the high shine of the elevator doors reflecting her face back to her. She still looked reasonably put together, although her hair was on the verge of rebelling altogether against its confinement.

The doors opened on the second floor, and Rey found room 216. She knocked twice, and the door opened moments later. Ben had removed his jacket, but still wore the rest of his costume. He was holding a glass with a fragrant amber liquor. Smelled like whiskey. He smiled at her as he held the door open. She stepped inside, and the door shut behind her.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming. Would you like a drink?”

It seemed like it had been a long time since her last drink, and the fresh air, not to mention sober reflection, had taken the edge off her buzz slightly.

“Yes, a drink would be nice.”

“Vodka tonic?”

He had one ready, just beginning to perspire.

“How did you-”

“I had some time while I was waiting for you, I ordered a drink from the bar in the lobby, on the off chance you were still coming.”

She started to take a sip, then realized he had been alone with her drink for a long time. She hesitated. Ben saw her hesitation and divined the cause. He took the glass back, and took a swig, then handed it back. She drank, feeling a little abashed.

“Not at all,” he said, addressing her silent thoughts. “You were just being careful.”

“Do you-” she started, then hesitated, not knowing how to proceed. “Do you do this often?” she finished after a beat.

“Invite women I’ve just met at historically-themed costume balls to my hotel room? No, not often.”

She laughed and drank again. It was good top-shelf vodka, and she started to feel fuzzy again, and deliciously relaxed. “Well I feel it’s going well,” she said, to have something to say. “We have a drink, you’ve established trust, I feel like I can say with mild certainty that you’re not an ax murderer…”

“So, you’d say now would be a good opportunity to ask you something?”

“Depends.” She let the word hang in the air a moment.

“Depends on what?”

She smiled to herself. She loved his voice, deep and velvety, saying all the right things.

“Are you going to ask me what you were going to ask earlier? When you brought me the first drink we shared?”

“Yes.”

“Ask away.”

“Will you take off your clothes?”

“I mean, yes, that did seem to be the idea of asking me up here, right?”

“Will you let me watch?”

She giggled. “Are you going to smoke a cigar? Will there be a saxophone playing?”

“They don’t allow smoking.” He had a dry humor, Rey liked that. His mouth cocked in that crooked smile of his.

“You want to just sit there and watch me undress?”

“Just to your chemise.”

Rey took another sip. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“Since I saw you take off your shoe in the ballroom.”

She thought for a moment. “How do you want me to take off my clothes? I’m really not one for striptease.”

“No strip. Just think about how you would get undressed at home. You don’t even have to look at me.”

“Forget you’re even there?”

“If you can.”

Rey gulped back the rest of her drink and set the empty down on an end table. “All right. Just like home.”

She went to the tv, and turned it on, looking for those music channels that seemed to tagalong with all cable packages. She found them and set it to a classical station, then turned the volume down low. Background music.

She thought about what she would do next, if she had just arrived home. Well, her feet were aching. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them under a padded armchair near her. Then she removed her gloves and laid them on the arm of the chair. She removed her jewelry next, the necklace and the earrings, and set them on a desk near the chair. Next, she removed her gown. She counted the pins as she set them on the desk: 6 on the left side, and 6 on the right. Then the stomacher, with its 8 pins total. She folded the gown and lay it across the back of the chair and laid the stomacher on the seat. Then she removed the pockets, first removing her phone and charger and plugging them into the power strip on the desk.

Next came the stays, which were more difficult to remove by herself. She had practice, however, and had long ago strung her stays with longer than usual laces to make it easier to untie the knot herself. Once undone, she used a pinching movement to knock the lacings out of the hooks, and soon was able to loosen it enough to turn the back towards the front and unhook the rest of the lacings with one hand. She laid the stays on the chair with the rest. She untied her petticoat and dropped it to the floor, stepping out of the green skirts. She folded this and placed it on the back of the chair with the gown.

She now wore just her chemise and her stockings. Her hair was still pinned up, so she set to work removing all the hair pins and the structural sponge that had held the bun in place. Free of the pins, her hair cascaded down to just above her breasts. She put one foot up on the seat of the chair and untied a garter, rolling the stocking down to her ankle before removing it. She removed the other stocking, then turned toward Ben. She raised an eyebrow. “Should I go on?”

His crooked smile again. He finished the last sip of whiskey, then reached down to take off his shoes. She saw he had already unbuttoned his waistcoat while she was undressing. She drifted over to the bed while he removed his cravat and shirt. Ben approached her, unbuckling his pants.

“Turn around,” he murmured, his voice husky and slightly aquiver.

She did turn around, a little surprised that she obeyed, and even more surprised that she liked this sudden bossiness. He swept her hair away from her neck and kissed right behind her left ear. A shiver curled down her spine. Ben put one hand on the curve of her right cheek and pointed her face towards him. She was looking almost straight up while his head bent towards her. With his right hand nestled in her hair, he kissed her deeply, and his left hand pulled up the front of her chemise and slid between her legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last completed chapter I have, so I will probably start updating on a weekly or bi-weekly basis from here, depending on how quickly I write. Hope you're enjoying it! Next chapter should be a good one!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, how long had it been since a man lay between her thighs and just sweetly, lingeringly, ate out her pussy like it was a goddamn steak dinner?

Rey gasped when Ben’s hand touched her thighs, his fingers questing between her legs, sliding up the smooth silkiness of her skin. He swerved aside right before he reached her sex, and drew his fingers up her left hip, his fingers noticing the absence of undergarments.

“Completely bare?” he murmured against her neck in a way that made her gasp. “Scandalous.”

She regained her breath, although her breast was quaking. “I’m a stickler for historical accuracy.”

He smirked against her cheek. “What do you like? Is this good?”

God, his voice was almost enough to make her climax. Low and husky, tickling her ear. She reached back to find his right hand, moved it to cup her breast.

“I like that,” she gasped, as he began to rub her nipple with his fingertips, stimulating her until the nipple poked out hard as glass.

She took his left hand and guided him to her pelvis. His fingers brushed against her labia, gently stroking up and down. One finger slipped in between, down to find her wet entrance. He drew his finger up to circle her clit, almost brushing against it but not quite making contact in a way that was driving Rey mad. She turned her head back to him, presenting her mouth to him, and he took it, kissing her with lips slightly open, long slow kisses that she felt in her knees. And all the time he was circling, circling…

“What else do you like?” he purred.

“I like your voice.”

He smiled, not erotically, just a nice toothy smile. “You like when I talk?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip as she tried to buck her hips against his hand. He was too quick for her, though, and his finger eluded her. He started stroking his fingertip up and down her labia instead.

“Do you want me to finger you?”

She reached her right hand back, burying her fingers in his wild hair. She nodded.

He slid his finger across her clit, and Rey gasped. It had been well worth the wait. Even just that gentle touch sent shivers of pleasure through her. He smiled against her hair, leaning over to kiss her neck again. “How was that?”

She nodded; eyes shut. “Don’t stop.”

He began to stroke her clit with the pad of his fingertip, sometimes making small circles, sometimes just an up and down motion. Rey kept her hand in his hair, her left-hand clinging to his thigh.

She whimpered slightly when his finger left her clit, but it quickly changed to a moan of pleasure when her pushed two fingers inside her and crooked his fingers in a “come here” motion inside her. Rey cried out in delight.

He was certainly a multi-tasker. His right hand continued to caress her breast, while his first two fingers moved inside her, and his thumb began to slide over her clit again. After a few minutes, he kissed her again.

“Can I taste you?”

“Mmm uh-huh,” was the only intelligible noises Rey could muster. Ben removed his fingers and Rey pulled off her chemise, before it got stained with any bodily fluids. Ben finished unfastening his pants and let them fall to the floor. Rey saw that Ben had opted to not be historically accurate, and was wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs. Did he wear any colors besides black?

Fashion choices fell away from her mind when she ran her hands over his chest. He was very broad-shouldered, not a body-builder physique, but in good shape, trim waist. Her fingers ran over the light down of fur on his stomach, and he giggled.

“I’m ticklish,” he warned.

Rey grinned like an idiot, and Ben grinned back.

“You seem to have gotten distracted,” he said. “We were about to-”

“Oh, right.” She turned down the bed, wondering as she did what he was thinking about her body. She had always liked her figure, willowy rather than voluptuous, with nice pert breasts, even if they were only a handful, and shapely long legs. Even though she had always been confident about her body, she found herself nervous now, wondering what he thought, if he thought she was pretty. She climbed into bed and turned to face him, catching him in the act of staring at her ass. She giggled (like a schoolgirl, she berated herself).

“Sorry, but you have a beautiful bottom.”

She smiled, scooting over to make room for him. “Are you an ass man?”

“I like everything, especially on you,” he said as he knelt on the bed, pulling the covers back to see her better.

It was not possible; she was actually blushing. He had been finger-fucking her for five minutes, but one cheeky compliment from him about her body was making her head spin.

Ben smiled, kneeling over her, kissing her quickly. “You’re really cute when you blush.”

And then he was kneeling between her thighs, hooking her legs over his shoulders, one on each side of his head. He bent to kiss her delicately, between her legs, then spread her lips with two fingers, and let his tongue lap luxuriously from her entrance up through her clit. Rey moaned softly, melting into what she assumed must be a vaguely girl-shaped puddle. She reached down and entwined her fingers in his hair, gasping as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit, once, twice. Then he lapped at her again, following it up by covering her whole mound with his mouth and sucking gently.

God, how long had it been since a man lay between her thighs and just sweetly, lingeringly, ate out her pussy like it was a goddamn steak dinner? He was good, too, extremely responsive. He started slow, trying out a few different styles to find out what she liked. When she moaned after he sucked on her clit, he lingered there, alternating between the broad licks she seemed to like and the gentle suction. After a minute of that, he moved back to the long licks, licking her from bottom to top and back again.

After a few minutes, he shifted slightly, and inserted two fingers again, moaning against her pussy as he moved them back and forth. That throaty groan was so blissful, so contented, Rey moaned too, quickly beginning to pant as Ben stimulated her G-spot with his fingers, stroking the front wall of her pussy, while his tongue flicked hard over her clit.

She looked down at him, wondering if this were actually happening, or if it was all just a very vivid wet dream, when his eyes locked onto hers as he sucked on her mound, his tongue simultaneously flicking over her clit. She came them, a great crashing crescendo of pleasure that made her toes curl and her hips buck against his mouth. Her head rolled back and her eyes squeezed tight, as Ben continued lightly licking her, avoiding the sensitive clit and focusing instead on her labia and pulsing entrance. When the wave subsided, he gently removed his fingers, looking up at her as he put them in his mouth and sucked off her juices.

Rey let out a low chuckle, stretching luxuriously as Ben pushed up to his knees, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Rey reached forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him down to her. He lay propped up on his elbows above her, kissing her deeply. Rey let her hands roam over his back, one hand burying itself in his hair while the other wandered down to his waist. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, pulling his hips in to grind against hers.

Her eyes widened as she felt his member push against her entrance through his boxers. She turned her head to the side, Ben tracing kisses down her neck. “Oh!” she gasped.

He pushed up from his elbows onto his hands so he could look at her. “Yeah…” he said, letting the word trail off.

Rey ran her hands down his stomach, maintaining eye contact as she pulled on the waistband of his shorts, peeking down at his penis. She had felt correctly, he was big. “Fuck me,” she murmured.

Ben nuzzled the top of her head. “I mean, I was hoping to.”

She had to laugh as she reached into his shorts to take the length of him into her hand. He filled her hand with his girth, and he was long enough for two of her handspans, plus a little more.

Ben sighed softly as she handled him, sizing him up. “What’s the verdict? Doable?”

She giggled, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “Very doable.”

He kissed her once and leapt up from the bed, sliding out of his boxers as he walked over to a suitcase that stood on a chair near the bed. Rey rolled onto her stomach, watching him dig in the suitcase, returning with a condom. He ripped open the packet, throwing the wrapper on the nightstand. He gazed at her as he slid the condom down over the length of his cock, eyes lingering over her back and ass and legs, feet kicked up idly. He let out a low whistle.

She popped up onto her knees after the condom was secured. “I thought I should be on top, until I get er – adjusted.” She giggled.

He lay down on his back, cock sticking up and bobbing slightly like a buoy at sea. Rey swung one leg over him, straddling his waist, and started to ease herself down onto him. She was still dripping wet from his tongue, and the condom was lightly lubricated, so there were no problems with friction. He slid into her fairly easily, and Rey gasped slightly at his girth.

“Is that ok?” he asked, lightly rubbing the tops of her thighs.

“Mm-hmm,” Rey murmured, wiggling her hips from side to side a few times to get him all in. “That actually wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

Ben winced slightly. ‘Actually, I’m not all the way in.”

Rey felt between their hips and realized he was right. She backed up, then lowered herself again a few times until she had encompassed his full length.

“How’s that?”

“Amazing,” he moaned.

She pistoned up and down his cock a few times, while Ben lay still, letting her get comfortable. When it seemed reasonably certain she wasn’t going to suffer any injuries, he thrust his hips up into hers as she was coming down, the contact creating a slapping sound. Rey arched her back, leaning back slightly to change the angle of him inside her. Ben reached forward to rub her clit, and Rey moaned.

They slipped into a nice rhythm, and Rey realized she was close to another orgasm. She came up slightly higher now, so more of his length came out before she dropped back down again. Ben moaned gently, his other hand on her hip, guiding her. On the next thrust, he pushed into her as deep as he could, his hips bucking against her with a delicious impact, while his fingers furiously worked her clit, and she came, hard, crying out and falling forward against him, like all her bones had turned to jelly. She lay as waves of orgasm washed over her, as Ben kissed her cheeks, her nose, her neck.

“Do you mind if I get on top now?”

“Mm, that would be nice,” she panted.

Ben sat up, holding Rey to him as he expertly rolled over without pulling out. Rey gasped, the air driven out of herself somewhat as some of his weight landed on her. His hips bucked into her as Ben kissed at her neck, nipping lightly. “Are you ready?” he murmured.

“Yes,” Rey sighed. Ben pushed himself up on his forearms, her legs wrapped high around his waist, and began to thrust into her roughly, groaning as he did. Rey let her hands wander up his smooth back, reveling in the feeling of his smooth skin and broad shoulders.

“Is this ok?” he groaned, and Rey couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“It’s way more than ok,” she finally gasped.

Ben laughed too, panting in her ear. “Good. I was worried I would hurt you.”

Rey buried her fingers in his hair again, as Ben’s lips found hers again. She came for the third time, moaning against his mouth, dragging her nails across his shoulders. Ben kissed down her jaw and neck, nipping the sensitive skin as Rey came down from the high of the pleasure, and the affection, the sheer physical touch she had craved so much without even realizing it.

Ben murmured in her ear, “I love hearing you come.” Rey laughed, arching her back, angling her hips against his for a more pleasurable friction.

“I’d like to hear what you sound like when you come,” she purred in his ear.

“Yes, mistress.”

Ben pushed up to a kneeling position, pulling Rey’s hips toward him, pushing her legs toward his chest. He began thrusting into her rapidly. Rey couldn’t help gasping at the pace, plus his full length and girth. Rey felt her hands reaching above her, bracing herself against the headboard. Ben watched her through half-shut eyes, then fell forward again, pinning her wrists to the bed with his hand. He gave one last great thrust and grunted huskily, shuddering and groaning. He let go of her wrists, and she brought her arms up his back, stroking his smooth skin, her hands rising with the swell of his ribs as he caught his breath.

After a few minutes, he collapsed on his side, pulling Rey into his arms so she was lying on her side also, facing him. Rey was still flush with the high of an amazing sexual encounter, but felt a creeping doubt overtake her, as social situations always did. But Ben leaned over and kissed her sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He deftly removed the condom and reached behind him to drop it into a trash can, grabbing a few tissues from the nightstand to clean up, all while keeping his left arm wrapped around Rey’s shoulders. He tossed the tissues back into the basket, and turned back to Rey, right hand resting gently on Rey’s waist. He smiled then, leaning his forehead over to touch hers. He chuckled, low and gruff, and Rey felt her unease melt away as she laid her hand on his cheek, smiling at him.

“That was really good,” Ben said, laughing at the same time Rey burst out in giggles, “Three times!”

As Rey’s giggles trailed off, she nervously asked, “So, when can I see you again?”

Ben’s smile fell. “Actually, I live in Chicago. I’m flying back home in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was worth the wait! Sex scenes are hard for me (pun intended) but I'm really happy with how it turned out.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm done with this fic for now. I had more ideas for this one, but my creative juices just aren't flowing here (although Rey's are! Am I rite?) Hope everyone enjoyed!


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